


When it Gets Too Hard to Take, I'll Hold on to You

by thnksfrthwilliam



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angels, BDSM, Collars, Dom/sub, Light BDSM, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Trust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-13
Updated: 2013-03-13
Packaged: 2017-12-05 03:57:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/718622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thnksfrthwilliam/pseuds/thnksfrthwilliam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gabriel just needs someone to call home. Sam is willing to be that for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When it Gets Too Hard to Take, I'll Hold on to You

They'd been doing this song and dance for a while - Gabriel would show up, sit at the edge of Sam's bed-of-the-week and smile that smile that made the hunter's stomach flip-flop in a way it surely wasn't supposed to. The room would be quiet and heavy until it wasn’t anymore.

"I can practically  _see_  the butterflies in your tummy, kiddo," Gabriel said flippantly, smile cracking to a smirk at the edges. Imperfectly perfect, like a mask. "You gonna fuck me?"

Sam blushed; Gabe laughed. Sam found that he didn't quite know what angle the angel was trying to pull. He found that he didn't care. When Sam didn't answer (too lost in his own thoughts to pull himself out), Gabriel tried again.

"Will you fuck me, please?" It was a request, not a demand. It threw Sam for a loop and then another just for symmetry. Odd enough that an archangel, powerful enough to rip the universe a new one, was eager to be below a simple hunter, but he had to go and be polite about it too. How was Sam supposed to say no to that?

Sam wouldn't hold back with the angel (Gabriel requested - no,  _begged_ \- that he didn't) and by the end of it, each time, Gabriel was bruised and bloody and raw and grinning. Wanting it hard, Sam had expected. For such a small man, Gabriel had been rough and tumble from the get-go. After a month of the same, Sam expected more each day to be told to lay down and take it, to switch places (or to be left alone in a motel bed while the archangel went for an interplanetary jaunt), but it never happened. Gabriel kept coming back, kept giving his polite requests and not acting until permission was granted. When he arrived one day, after a few more months had passed, with his hands behind his back, Sam really should have guessed (but then again, he had never considered it as a serious possibility, just as something vague he had heard about some time ago).

"What are you holding?"

Gabriel even looked shy, eyes downturned like he was afraid of a punishment if he was too forward. He held out a black ring of leather with a silver buckle; Sam took it from him, material smooth under his calloused fingers. A collar. Sam ran his thumb over the shapes meticulously carved into the leather, fully encircling the collar. He squinted a little, unsure. Enochian, he knew as much, but what it said was lost on him. He looked from the leather in his hands up to Gabriel's eyes glinting gold in the dim lamp light (hinting at unfathomable power just underneath the surface - Sam gulped without meaning to).

"What is this?"

Gabriel's mask fell right back into place, broken around the edges but covering up the vulnerability just fine. "A prom dress. What does it look like, idiot."

"Why?"

"Why not?"

"What does it say?"

"Not important. My name is on there though, maybe you can find that," he nearly snarled, pushing his moment of weakness underneath a readymade cover of sarcasm and snark.

Sam looked back at the circle in his hands, spinning it slowly as his eyes scanned the surface. Some of the script made him stop; it looked the same as all the rest, lines of tan seen through a veil of black, but it felt different, somehow.

Gabriel's grin was sharp when Sam looked back up. "Give the boy a prize."

"What do you want me to do with it?"

The angel shrugged. "Keep it for a few days. Don't let Dean-o get a hold of it. Think on it."

He escaped after that sentiment (Sam thought later that Gabriel ran – that they both ran – whenever things got to be too much) without a single piece of clothing hitting the ground; Sam was left perplexed, at best.

Sam tucked it away in his bag, under plaid, magazines (of both the metal and paper sort) and stolen toiletries. Out of sight out of mind, easier said than done; it was the first thing he thought of, on that foggy bridge between asleep and awake and the last thought to fade away on the journey back. Gabriel didn't return for a week. When he finally did, he was livid. Something about another angel, something about a sacred object, something about something about something. Sam didn't listen, too wrapped up in the way Gabe looked when furious. The angel threw a lamp and Sam swore he saw gold feathers slice through the air before fading back to something less than there. He ranted and stamped his feet and all but threw a tantrum and he looked glorious and he looked powerful and he looked like he needed someone to put him in his place. Sam crossed the room quietly, socks padding on threadbare carpet under the noise of an angry archangel. He plucked the collar out of his bag and turned back to Gabe.

"Yes," he said over the din.

Gabriel turned gracefully to look at Sam, the rage sliding off of him like a jacket being shed.

"What?" he asked, quiet voice sounding strange in contrast to the shouting from before.

Sam didn't answer. He took three steps forward to close the space between them and touched his fingertips to Gabriel's jaw. The angel looked up at him, expression soft, mask put away (for a moment, at least). Sam leaned down and Gabriel leaned up and they kissed; it was soft, quiet and serene, like a snowfall between dusk and dawn, untouched and unsullied.

"Yes," Sam repeated as he pulled away, unbuckling the silver clasp.

Gabriel watched his hands. Sam lifted the angel's chin and slid the leather round his neck, pulling the length through the buckle until the material touched Gabe's skin at every point. When he closed the clasp with a click and dropped his hands Gabriel's shoulders untensed, like his wings had drooped in relaxation behind him.

"I'm still not sure what this means," Sam said after minutes of comfortable silence had passed between them.

"It means I'm yours."

"Why?"

"Because you're Sam Winchester, pure of soul with blessed morals."

"I'm not a good guy."

"You're good enough."

"Why do you even want to belong to someone else? You're an archangel..."

"Exactly. I'm an archangel. We crave a sense of belonging, kiddo, couldn’t ya tell?” he asked, only half kidding.

"Oh."

The silence continued. Gabriel sat on the edge of Sam's bed and smiled that smile again.

"We can take it as we go, Sammy. I'm not asking for much. You can say no just as much as I can. I just want to know that I have - that I have someone to come home to."

Sam nodded and sat next to him, sliding his fingers against leather and skin; Gabriel practically purred.

"It suits you," he said, not really thinking.

"I'm glad," Gabriel replied, laying back on the bed and stretching out, looking up at Sam and winking.

Sam leaned down and kissed him. Gabriel’s eyes slid closed as he wrapped his arms around Sam’s shoulders.

“Thank you,” he murmured against the hunter’s lips, reverence clear in the words (and something more than just a simple  _thank you_ hovering just under the surface of the syllables).

Sam smiled and kissed him again. He knew exactly what Gabriel wasn’t saying, but he could wait for as long as the angel needed him to just to hear those three words aloud.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from a song by Default.


End file.
